


Syncopate

by ColorfulStabwound



Series: A Million Little Pieces [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albius - Freeform, Dancing, Fluff, High Heels, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, POV Second Person, Paris - Freeform, Shagging, Syncopate, Uncle Theo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 20:53:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2322842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorfulStabwound/pseuds/ColorfulStabwound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Currently you are in Paris and you’ve been dying for a change of scenery, which is why this entire thing started in the first place. You’d seen an advert for a workshop at the Centre de L'Herberie and you wanted Albus to go with you. What you failed to mention was that it was a dance workshop—A heels dance workshop. But whatever, those are just tiny details that you may or may not divulge after he agrees to go with you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Syncopate

**Author's Note:**

> All things Albus inspired by my writing partner, muse, cohort and friend, Unkissed. 
> 
> My 'instructor' is based on Yanis Marshall because he gives me life. This particular workshop is inspired by the Brian Friedman/Yanis Marshall Heels choreography|Britney Spears-Breathe on me. [Available for viewing on Youtube]
> 
> For Albus, our favorite boy in the band.

“Come on Albus, please?”

 

You’re stretched out nude across a hotel bed with your chin propped up on balled fists, eyes fixed on him as he shakes his head at you from across the room.  A frustrated sigh escapes you and you blow at the blond fringe that is hanging in your eyes because it’s too damn long and it doesn’t take very long at all before your frustration turns to mischief.

 

“Albie?” You purr and then you roll over onto your back and let your head drop over the side of the bed so that he doesn’t miss the taut line of your exposed throat.

 

“Hmm?” is his reply and although he is upside down, you know him well enough to know that you’ll get your way. Eventually.

 

“Come here?” You add with a reverse smile and hold out a hand for him to take because you know that he can’t resist it.

 

When he crosses the room to the bed you watch him with a smug smirk, and when he slides his hand into yours, you tug him down to his knees at the foot of the bed where he hovers over you and mutes out the rest of the world.

 

You’ve been on the road with Albus and his band for the better part of a year; your seventh year of Hogwarts forgotten like last nights supper. Of course you father was _not_ pleased when he found out you’d failed to return to the school after visiting Albus on his weekend stop off; which is why you are very glad that there is currently many, _many_ miles between you.

 

Uncle Theo’s last owl promised that he would try and soften your father to the fact that his son wasn’t graduating—Something cryptic about New York that you didn’t understand. But you trust Theo because you know that if anyone can change your father’s mind, it’s him.

 

Currently you are in Paris and you’ve been dying for a change of scenery, which is why this entire thing started in the first place. You’d seen an advert for a workshop at the Centre de L'Herberie and you wanted Albus to go with you. What you failed to mention was that it was a dance workshop—A _heels_ dance workshop. But whatever, those are just tiny details that you may or may not divulge after he agrees to go with you.

 

When Albus fits his lips over yours you sigh softly and circle your arms around his neck. His mouth is always a perfect compliment to yours, even upside down. He’s wandering and you’re encouraging him with tiny soft sounds. Every time his open mouth presses against your throat you smile because you know your plan is working; but it also feels _damn_ good and you’d like him not to stop. His hands trace over your bare arms and his fingertips leave behind faint trails of heat that quicken your pulse. 

 

Albus may be powerless to your charms, but if we’re being honest you aren’t much better. He knows exactly how to touch you to elicit the best reactions and when he stands up, he pauses only long enough to lose his jeans before he’s climbing on the bed with you. When he lies next to you, your bodies mold into one another and it is impossible to discern where one ends and the other begins.  You lie there for a long time, utterly wrapped up in one another because you can never seem to get enough. When he was away, it killed you every day, and even though you’ve been at his side for months now, the fear of waking up alone still lingers in the back of your mind.

 

“So, will you come with me?” You ask some time later while you’re perched above him, and he knows by the way your brow quirks that the entendre is not lost on you.

 

“Do I have to do anything?” The words are panted breathless and the sheen of sweat on his skin makes him look like he’s glowing.

 

“Not if you don’t want to.” You say, and then you kiss him hard and he bites your lips and you come together and it’s perfect like it always is.

 

 

 

“I’m not doing that,” He hisses as he leans close, torn between glaring at you and eyeing the other people in the studio in mild shock.

 

“I said you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” You say as you smile sweetly at him and rest the palm of your hand against his cheek.

 

“We’ll just be watching for now anyways.” You add with a smirk and a wink and then you tug him over to a free spot of floor to sit on.

 

You are still smirking when you both slide down to the floor and lean your backs up against a mirrored wall. You reach for his hand and intertwine your fingers and when he smiles back at you, you know he’s not mad. Not really.

 

Dancing was never anything you were serious about, not beyond feeling good and letting go to a great beat, and you have no real desire to dress up in high heels. You chose this _particular_ experience because it was so completely out of the little comfort bubble the two of you have created, and you can’t resist pushing the envelope sometimes.

 

When the class starts you are all smiles and Albus is still looking dubious and out of place. You lean against him and watch in rapt attention as the instructor runs through the routine a couple of times before breaking it down into smaller pieces that were easier to absorb. He is speaking a mile a minute and you do your best to keep up because your French isn’t as perfect as your father says it should be. “I bet he’s a real diva in the bedroom.” You whisper in Albus’ ear and then you both shake with silent giggles because you are children pretending to be grown ups. 

 

It’s not like you have ever attended a dance class before, because let’s face it; the waltzing lessons your gran forced you to take when you were ten hardly count. But this was different and fun and something you could definitely look back on with Albus later and laugh about.

 

“Let’s skip the heels for today, yeah?” You say when you catch him eyeing the haughty class instructor’s black-heeled boots with mild fear, and then you nudge him and he heaves a huge sigh of relief.

 

The class is split up into smaller groups and you and Albus are paired up with three other people who end up being vaguely annoyed with you and your constant giggling, because clearly, neither one of you are taking it as seriously as they are. 

 

Your hands don’t stray very far from him for the duration of the class and you don’t mind that he isn’t _really_ dancing because you are just happy that he is here with you. You want him to know that it doesn’t really matter what crazy or stupid thing you are doing, so long as you are together and you think that he understands.

 

It’s another hour or so before the class comes back together and is given the opportunity to step into the circle and dance. You watch as random groups of people interpret the steps in their own way and you can’t help but appreciate the human body and self-expression in their purest forms.

 

“You should go.” He giggles in your ear and you turn your head just enough to smirk over your shoulder at him.

 

“You think I wont?” You say, brow arching curiously.

 

“Then do it.” He says as he wraps his arms around you. “I dare you.” He laughs faintly and kisses your neck and just like that, your pulse is thudding in you ear and you stand up.

 

When you step into the circle you are joined by several other people, the two French girls from your previous group included. The moment the music starts you are instantly taken over like your body is merely an instrument of the melody.

 

The song is all sexy beats and breathy singing which is _right_ up your alley.

 

You are hardly a real dancer, but it doesn’t stop you from hitting every move that you can and when you drop to the ground to crawl on all fours your eyes move right through the crowd of people to find him.

 

Albus knows you well enough to know that you wouldn’t turn down going up there to show off, and he also knows that you didn’t just bring him here on a whim because you are not that fickle. He’s watching you with hungry eyes and every time someone else’s hand brushes over you his pulse thumps possessively. He cannot deny that you look good up there, he is fairly certain you have the power to make just about anything look good. When you drop to the floor and move like _that_ he is instantly hard and even though you shagged before you came here he cannot _wait_ for this ruddy class to be done so he can take you back to the hotel.

 

It was the nature of the routine to allow for some improvisation with the movements, especially the floor work, so it doesn’t faze you when hands moved over your twisting form. The corner of your mouth quirks with a smirk as you watch Albus and even from where you are you can practically _hear_ what he is thinking.

 

When the workshop ends you throw your arms around him and kiss him madly because you want him to know that you appreciate him doing this for you. When you are back on the street you’re walking hand and hand towards the hotel because Albus wants to _rest_ before his show tonight.

_  
Yeah, right._

 

 

 

“So, are you going to leave me now to pursue a career in dancing?” Albus grins at you as you walk, and although you know he is being playful, you don’t miss the sliver of worry behind his eyes.

 

“I don’t leave.” You reply and then you sort of want to take it back because he looks mildly stricken by your words.

 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You stop walking and turn him to face you, arms winding around his neck.  “I just meant that you are stuck with me. It was hell without you and I don’t fancy re-living that any time soon.” You smile openly and study his face and the way he looks at you tells you everything that you need to know.

 

“ I don’t leave either.” He replies quietly and you resist the urge to arch a brow at him. “Not anymore.” He adds under his breath and then he kisses you and you believe him.


End file.
